Waves
by maggiesbell
Summary: Maggie finds herself stranded in the middle of the ocean, completely exhausted and slowly freezing to death.
1. Chapter 1

Maggie was impossibly tired.

It was a miracle that she had yet to give into the crushing exhaustion after having struggled for God knows how long to stay alive. Just as miraculous was the fact that she had yet to freeze to death, clinging onto a buoy in the middle of the ocean in the dead of night. She could barely move, and the sensation of being stabbed by a thousand pins and needles had transitioned into complete numbness a while ago.

How she _hated_ the cold.

A wave washed over her, and she whimpered softly, utterly exhausted. She had never yearned more for a warm bed. If she survived this, she would never take warmth or rest for granted again. Or fresh water, for that matter; she would give just about anything just to get rid of the horrible taste of salt.

In the distance, she could spot the skyline of a city that in contrast to her, was very much alive. It was odd to think about all the different fates the city held. Whilst some of its inhabitants were out searching for her, most of them would never know of the lone FBI agent freezing to death just some miles away. Maybe she'd make a few headlines; Maggie imagined lawyers and accountants reading the article with a raised eyebrow, somewhat grateful they hadn't chosen to live the life of an FBI agent themselves. Then they'd leave for work, and by the time they got home, they would have forgotten the story. Just like that, Maggie Bell would fade away and be forgotten.

" _You'll be fine_ ," she murmured, trying to comfort herself. She couldn't afford to lose hope. "Any minute now. Just hold on a little longer."

If she was being completely honest, this was not what she had had in mind when envisioning the dangers of her occupation. Bombs, car accidents, gunfights and biological attacks seemed a lot more plausible than falling off a _ferry_. She must be far gone, because thinking about the improbability of it all made her chuckle. Maybe she'd end up being part of the curriculum at Quantico and they'd teach the recruits what _not_ to do when in her situation. At least then she wouldn't be forgotten.

However, as much as she hated her current situation, she could not say that she regretted her decision. Paulson would have killed that kid had she not tackled him as he charged towards her. She had been lucky enough to avoid being slashed by the knife he was waving around, but during the struggle, he had dragged her with him overboard.

Hitting the water had been an unpleasant experience. Salt water had forced its way through her nose, leaving a nasty sting, and she could've sworn her ears were going to explode. Her body was undeniably full of bruises, too. She might've hit water, but gravity didn't mind after having fallen a few dozen feet.

After having spent a few terrifying moments unable to differ up from down, she fought her way to the surface, her lungs screaming for air. She was powerless against the current, which had pulled her away from the ferry at an alarming speed. Just keeping herself afloat had been a challenge. Had she not bumped into the buoy when she did, she would've undoubtedly drowned shortly after; she'd spent a good five minutes coughing and heaving for air after pulling herself on top of it, completely exhausted.

OA had seen her go over – she had heard him shout her name as she hit the water – which meant that more than likely, a search party had been dispatched shortly after. At this moment, they were working their best to locate her.

 _They'll be her soon,_ she thought, to tired too say it. She had faith in them.

For now, she had nothing for company but herself and whatever the water held. She'd never been a particular fan of the ocean, fearful of the unknown horrors the dark water beneath her harboured. It made her feel vulnerable.

Regardless of her discomfort, she felt herself slipping out of consciousness not long after. Keeping her eyes open was becoming an impossible task, and despite her best efforts to fight for her life, it was undeniable that her body was shutting down.

The feeling of the life slowly draining from her body was eerie and unlike any other; she had never felt as calm, but never as afraid, either. She didn't want to die like this, alone and cold after having fought so hard. She didn't want to fade away into nothingness and be forgotten.

Then there was the odd sensation of being lifted into the air, and she was unable to tell whether or not she was so far gone that she had started to imagine things. In a split second, she was surrounded by complete chaos, with high noises and people touching her, and in spite of her closed eyes, she still felt blinded by the sudden light.

"Maggie?"

 _OA_. So, she wasn't dead. Not yet, at least. That ought to count for something.

" _Maggie_?" He repeated, a bit louder this time.

It was impossible for her to decipher the rest of what he said, as with whatever the crew working on removing her wet clothing were saying; but all the noise was hurting her head. Right now, she only wanted to go to sleep and escape all the pain.

They're terribly gentle with her as they cut away the fabric plastered to her body, careful not to move her unless they had too. She was too fatigued to care much about how exposed she was, but she still felt a pang of gratitude as they wrapped blankets around her quickly afterwards.

OA continued talking, repeating her name in almost every sentence. _Maggie. Maggie. Mags. Maggie._ It was hard to make out most of what he was saying, but she still found it comforting to know that something familiar was near. She let out a drowsy and incoherent murmur in an attempt to voice her appreciation – the first sound she'd made since she'd arrived in what she presumed was a helicopter – and she heard OA say her name again, this time with relief mixed with his worry.

It's the last thing she heard before she drifted off into unconsciousness, finally giving into the weariness.


	2. Chapter 2

Maggie awoke exhausted and somewhat confused, but warmer than earlier. After a few moments of disorientation, she recalled the events of yesterday. That also solved the mystery of why she was in a hospital room.

The sunlight flooding the room alerted her that it was a new day, but was also blinding. She turned her head in a botched attempt to find a more comfortable position. Her muscles screamed in protest, and she immediately closed her eyes, letting out a groan. She might not have been awake for long, but she already wanted to return to sleep.

There was shuffling next to here, and regardless of her pain, she forced her eyes open again. The moment she laid eyes on OA, she offered him a smile. Despite his obvious fatigue, he was quick to return it. He was still wearing his clothes from yesterday, albeit crumpled. The realization that he had stayed with her overnight made a pool of warmth settle in her chest.

"Welcome back."

"Thanks," she said, cringing at how raspy her voice sounded.

His expression turned softer, something she hadn't thought was possible. "How are you feeling?"

"Uncomfortable."

That was the short answer. Her entire body ached and _God_ , how it hurt to speak. Did this hospital not have any pain killers?

"Fair enough."

He fished a bottle of water from the drawer next to her bed, and reached it out to her. It took her a moment to push herself up into a sitting position, forcing herself to keep her face neutral. She shed the blankets wrapped around her, revealing the bruises decorating her body. Judging by the looks of it, it would take some time before she her body wouldn't hate her for moving.

She grabbed the bottle and lifted it to her lips, downing the contents as quick as her body allowed her. After this, she doubted she would be craving salt for a while.

"Need anything else?" he asked, taking the emptied bottle from her.

Sleep. Painkillers. To leave this place; curling up in her own bed seemed heavenly. At least there she wouldn't have to endure the lingering smell of death the air held. As a bonus, she'd also avoid hospital food. Besides, she didn't see the need for her to stay for bruising and headaches. It wasn't as if she couldn't take care of herself.

"When do I get to leave?" she said.

"They want to keep you another day for observation." He paused, which made her eye him curiously, encouraging him to elaborate. He sighed, relenting. "Your heart stopped."

She blinked. "What?"

His eyes dropped to his hands. "In the helicopter, for about fifty seconds," he said. "Looks like you made it through alright, but they want to be on the safe side."

"Oh," she said, if only for the lack of any better words.

So, she had died. In the blink of an eye, she had been gone. She would have expected to feel _something_ , but besides being a bit creeped out, she felt the same. No epiphanies, no existential crisis. She supposed it was worse to be on the other side of these sort of things.

She shook her head, pulling herself out of her thoughts. "Guess you're stuck with me for a little longer."

He looked up at her with a raised eyebrow, taken aback at how nonchalantly she took the news of her brush with death.

"Guess I am," he said, letting out a huff of air that could've passed for a laugh. "Not going to complain though. I could've been stuck with a worse partner."

She smiled. "Yeah, I guess you got pretty lucky."

"I did," he agreed fondly.

Her smile grew wider before she grimaced at the sharp pain by her temples. OA furrowed his eyebrows, but she waved her hand dismissively before he asked.

After that, they lapsed into a comfortable silence.

She let herself sink back into her pillow. He took the opportunity to turn his attention to the dozen files spread across her drawer. He still glanced up at her every once in a while, making sure she was okay, and she didn't mind. You'd think the FBI would go easy on them, hospitalization and all. Yet, she supposed that her temporary death demanded them to file a couple of extra forms.

Closing her eyes, she tried her best to ignore her headache. The sterile hospital smell didn't do her any favours - she'd always found it sickening. At least her bed was comfortable, though she realized any bed would be when compared to the buoy.

At some point, she must have dozed off. She found herself surrounded by darkness, the ground beneath her rocking. The sound of waves sent a pang of adrenaline through her, and she realized she was on a ship. _You're dreaming_ , she reminded herself, but it didn't make much of a difference. Her hands were still trembling, and she held onto the railing for dear life.

Someone rammed into her, and once again she was submerged in water, unable to breathe. Kicking frantically, she tried to reach the surface, only to sink further. I can't breathe. Her life was draining from her again in spite of her desperate attempts at reaching the surface. _Wake up_ , she told herself. _Wake up. Wake up._ _ **Wake up.**_

She awoke with a small gasp, digging her nails into the blanket.

OA looked up from his files, waiting for her to orient herself before speaking. "You okay?"

"Yeah, I–" she inhaled slowly, leveling her voice – "Yeah, I'm fine."

He rose an eyebrow, but didn't push the matter, much to her relief. She'd never enjoyed talking about her nightmares, especially after Jason died. Besides, she doubted it would help.

Sensing her discomfort, he changed the subject. "You sure have your work cut out for you once you feel better," he said, nodding towards the files.

She snorted. "Can't wait."

"Maybe you'll get lucky and I'll do some of it for you," he said. "It's not like I have much else to do, anyways."

She frowned at his tone; was he bored? It would make sense. It couldn't be too exciting to wait for her to drift in and out of consciousness, and he'd been here for a while. If he wanted to leave, she didn't blame him. She knew he had a strong sense of loyalty, which might explain why he was still here. However, she didn't want him to feel obligated to stay due to a sense of duty.

He must've noticed the small change in her expression, because he cleared his throat. "I didn't mean it like that," he said, "you're my partner, and I care. There's no place I'd rather be right now."

That earned him a small smile.

"Besides," he said, "it's a good excuse to get out of that conference Dana wanted us to attend."

She scoffed. "Happy to help."

The conversation fell into a lull again. She realized she was fidgeting with the edges of her blanket; an old bad habit from when she was a teenager. She thought she'd gotten rid of it and found less visible ways to deal with her nerves due to this job. Apparently, she hadn't.

As a teenager, she hadn't envisioned that her life would turn out like this. A widow who had met dead herself, if only temporary. She wondered what her teenager self would've thought if they had met.

"You're sure you're okay?" OA asked, pulling her out of her thoughts.

She smiled weakly. "I am."

"You know that if you ever need–"

She interrupted him before he had the chance to finish the sentence. "I know, OA," she said softly.

He nodded, content with her reply. "Good."

It would take some time before she would be open to talk about this, if ever. Still, it meant the world to know that someone cared enough to be there.

"OA?"

"Hm?"

"Thank you."

 **A/N: Look at me, actually completing something for once in my life. Now that's a miracle. Obviously, I have no idea how to end a story, or how to write dialogue, but I tried. I did have a lot of fun trying to write Maggie and OA, because I have never done that before. I hope to get to write more for FBI in the future so that I can develop more of a "feel" for how to write them.**


End file.
